A Fortunate Stroke of Serendipity
by xmindset
Summary: Gabriella Montez is twenty seven years old and a workaholic, living in New York. The holidays along with her friend's wedding are coming up, calling for her visit to New Mexico. Little does she know about the surprises that await her. Threeshot. TxG
1. Pteromerhanophobia

A/N: Welcome to my Christmas fic. It will be about 2 or 3 chapters. Sorry it is a bit late but it is still technically Christmas until January 5th. The starting premise for this story has been my brainchild since 2012. It just never came together until now. The story is loosely based on **batzmary**'s **I'm holding on for you**. Her writing is absolutely amazing and I encourage you to check it out. So I'm back. Who missed me? … No one.

And Happy New Year to all! I hope 2014 is going to be awesome for all of you.

* * *

From Oxford Dictionary:

Definition of serendipity in English:  
**serendipity**  
Syllabification: ser·en·dip·i·ty  
Pronunciation: /ˌserənˈdipitē /  
NOUN  
the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way:  
**'a fortunate stroke of serendipity'**  
'a series of small serendipities'

* * *

_Inspired by_** I'm holding on for you **_by_** batzmary**

**A Fortunate Stroke of Serendipity**

Chapter 1: Pteromerhanophobia

"_Are you serious?"_

"_Come on. Let's go," he motioned._

"_I'm not getting on that thing."_

"_Oh come on. Don't be a baby."_

"_A baby?" I scoffed, "Excuse me."_

"_You're going to make us late."_

"_Late for what?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Where are you taking me?" I narrow my eyes at him._

"_It's a surprise. So get on," he paused before that trademark smirk appeared on his lips, "Motorcyles don't bite, sweetheart. I promise. Wear my helmet." He grabs his helmet from behind him and holds it out for me. _

"_Well, what about you?"_

"_I'll be fine. I'll get a new one on my way back home."_

"_Ohhkayy," I say hesitantly._

Yup. That was me. I dated the bad boy in high school and up to my second year of college. And yes, I actually did get on that motorcycle. And looking back, I'm glad I did. Even though he was a quote unquote "bad boy," he was a big softy underneath his rebellious, hard façade. He was the poster boy for the perfect boyfriend. Well, until we broke up. But I'll get to that later.

Because well…It was a bad breakup to be honest. It was messy. And annoying. And petty. And really just stupid. Looking back, we seemed so foolish. So childish. I don't get it. But he was absolutely positively my first love. My first legitimate relationship. Dammit. I'm getting really nostalgic right now. Dammit, Gabriella. Out of all the guys in school, why did you have to choose him? Why _him_? You could have just chosen that nerdy kid who kept making googly eyes at you in Chemistry lab. Okay. No. He was super creepy. Never mind.

Troy was…I don't know. Something else. He gave me a thrill. He kept my high school life exciting and blissful. He never held me back. He only made me better. He encouraged me and respected me. I thought, I mean, really thought he was _perfect_.

But of course, trouble in paradise had to occur sooner or later.

* * *

Let's flash-forward to right now.

I live in New York. I am single. _Naturally_. I haven't dated in a while. I am 27 and pretty much a workaholic. And I'm being completely frank with you. I am not trying to fabricate some sob story so that you will just pity me.

Still, I am afraid of ending up alone.

I know the old maxim that says, "No one can love you if you don't first love yourself," or something like that. And I do. Love myself, I mean. In the simple sense. But somehow, I feel disappointed in myself. Little idiosyncrasies that just make me go, "Dammit, Gabriella. Don't do that. Don't think like that."

I am just bombarded with negativity along with short bursts of positivity. Does that make sense?

I don't know. All I know is that life goes on. It waits for no one. Once you are born, you start to—what? _Die_. That's right. We age by the minute. By the second, millisecond.

Now, I am a doctor—a dermatologist to be specific. I take care of people's skin for a living and get paid for it. I work at the local hospital in my town. Each day is filled with stacks of papers with more and more charts to review. Don't get me wrong. I love my job. I enjoy it. I don't regret choosing it. It just seems endless sometimes.

Sharpay and Taylor seem to have given up on me to hang out or visit. Mother is worried about me. She has decided to take it slow nowadays. She's teaching part-time at a local university in Albuquerque. She tells me not to worry about dating right now. She's primarily worried about my health…and my happiness.

Sharpay is a consultant designer for Michael Kors—her dream job. Taylor is a partner at a prestigious law firm. They each have their respective families now. I am so happy for both of them. Genuinely.

But I'm okay. I think I'm happy. In the satisfied, content sense.

* * *

I glance over my shoulder to search for an empty seat in the hospital cafeteria.

"Thanks, Jeff," I smile to the chef as he carefully places the chicken sandwich on my plate.

After he nods at me, my phone begins to ring.

"Hello, mom," I say as I make a sad attempt at sounding cheerful.

"Are you coming down for Christmas?" she quickly replies.

"Oh, I am doing fine here in New York. Thanks for asking, mother." My sentence drips with utter sarcasm.

"Don't try to be sarcastic with me," she scolds, "You'll never get a husband by being sarcastic."

I prevent myself from bursting out in laughter as she unknowingly quotes one of my favorite episodes of _The Simpsons_. "_All right_, no husband," I smile into the mouthpiece of my iPhone.

"Gabriella Montez, are you going to answer my question?"

I roll my eyes, "Yes, mom. I'm flying in on the seventeenth for Elise's wedding. I already have my ticket," I reassure her.

She answers me with a cynical tone, "Okay. Make sure to call me before you leave—and do not forget to tell me your arrival time so you won't get stuck at the airport like last time."

"Will do, mom. I promise to give you the details of my itinerary before I leave. But I gotta go now. It's my lunch break."

"Love you. I'll call you later, okay?"

I stifle a chuckle, "Love you too. Bye." I tucked my phone back into the pocket of my lab coat.

I bet I'll turn into a complete worrywart like her when…well…_if_ I become a mother someday. I guess she doesn't have a choice whether or not to worry about me. I am her first—and only—born.

I really am baffled as to why Elise and Anthony decided to have their wedding before the holidays. It is such a hectic time. Elise is the reason why I bought an earlier ticket home. Normally, I would leave for Albuquerque on the first day of winter, the twenty-first. But since Elise decided on the twentieth as her wedding date, I had to schedule my flight from JFK to ABQ three days earlier.

I met Elise in undergraduate college at Stanford University. When we found out that we were both from New Mexico, we freaked out. She is from Santa Fe, which is about an hour away from Albuquerque. We emailed and talked on the phone frequently after graduation, and her childhood friend caught up with her, they dated, and the rest is history. Last year, I received an invitation to the wedding. I called her up when I saw the RSVP slip that read "_ attending with _ guests". I was not sure if I would have a date to the wedding. Elise, being the Pollyanna that she is, said, "Put down one guest. You never know when a nice gentleman decides to fawn over the _gorgeous_ Miss Gabriella Montez."

Elise Daniels always knew how to make me smile. She was undoubtedly one of my best friends at Stanford. After she received my call, she called her cousin to book me a room at the nearby Four Seasons free-of-charge, even though I insisted on a cheaper hotel that I could pay with my own money.

I have never stayed at a Four Seasons before. That's one thing to look forward to after the wedding.

I really should have put zero guests down. Now I feel bad that Elise and Anthony probably paid for another seat at the one of the guests' tables for "Miss Gabriella Montez's plus one". Right now, there aren't any takers. I haven't been asked out in a while.

* * *

Flying makes me swell with anxiety. I've always been that way. I grip the armrests and pray until 30 minutes have passed after takeoff. You see so many airplane crashes on CNN, and the next thing I think is "What if that airplane could have been my flight?" The simple thought makes me shudder with fear.

I remember getting on a plane with my high school class in junior year for the summer trip to Spain.

_I sat completely frozen in my seat after everyone else had boarded the aircraft. _

"_I don't think I can do this."_

"_Oh, please. You're overreacting. You've been on a plane, haven't you?"_

_I nodded slowly. _

"_You'll be fine," he said casually as he slung my backpack into the overhead bin and closed it shut with a click._

"_What if—"_

"_What if everything goes fine and we land safely in Madrid?" he grins as he interrupts me. He gently plops down in the seat beside me and raises an eyebrow._

_I roll my eyes and turn my eyes towards the window to my right._

"_This trip is going to be sick. I can feel it, Ella," he proposed enthusiastically and leaned over to place a light kiss on my left cheek._

"_Oh, really?" I turned my head to him, beaming._

"_Yes," he affirmed before averting his eyes to my ear and touching his thumb to my earring._

_Suddenly, the pilot came over the PA system declaring, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now in the queue after two more planes. We will be taking off shortly. Thank you for your patience."_

"_Oh God," I muttered. My right hand was squeezing the armrest while my left hand was squeezing something softer—Troy's hand. My knuckles were pale. _

_He looked over at my hand. "If you wanted me to hold your hand, you could have just asked," he chuckled jovially._

"_Shut up, Bolton," I retorted._

"_Yes, ma'am," he saluted with his left hand and squeezed my hand with his right. _

We did land safely in Madrid as Troy predicted. He proceeded to playfully taunt me about that trip during every aerial trip we took together following Spain. I hated him for it but at the same time I loved it. He was my rock at the time. He claimed that he loved that I was 'independent' and 'smart' and 'beautiful'. I ignored all my insecurities. I pushed myself and encouraged myself more and more because I knew that someone else besides my mom and my girl friends was cheering me on. I was proud to call him my _high school sweetheart._

* * *

I arranged all of my bags near the door of my small, suburban two-bedroom house the night before the not-so-awaited day. I dressed casually in simple black leggings and a light-wash oversized, denim button up, long enough to cover my behind. I pulled on a pair of black suede wedge boots to finish the look. I made sure to bring my long, gray cardigan—in case I get cold on the plane, which nearly happens every time. I ran a wand of mascara through my eyelashes, smeared enough concealer under my eyes to cover my dark circles, and put some tinted lip balm on my lips. My aim was to dress comfortably while looking decent.

I also made sure to call my mom before calling a taxi to drop me off to John F. Kennedy airport. My flight was scheduled for ten thirty in the morning so the taxi picked me up at six o' clock. I made sure to unplug unnecessary appliances and turn off the lights before heading out the door.

Traffic was not so bad. The taxi ride was pleasant and swift.

I was able to check in and get through security with no problems.

I handed my ticket to the tall lady at the security checkpoint.

"Where is your final destination?" she asked with a frustrated expression on her face.

"Albuquerque, New Mexico," I simply stated.

"All right, miss. Your flight is at Gate 24."

"Gate 24," I reiterated as she handed my ticket back, "Thanks."

She did not bother to say, "You're welcome," looking behind me at the next person in line.

Since there was quite some time before boarding, I walked over to the Au Bon Pain, nearest to my gate and ordered some breakfast food: egg on a bagel with bacon and cheese along with a mocha latte. Who doesn't love breakfast food?

I took the meal with me over to the rows of chairs by the gate and sat down, completely engrossed in my food. The aroma from the mocha latte was enough to awaken my senses. The bagel satisfied my appetite with the fresh scrambled egg and the crispy, mouth-watering bacon. Thank God for breakfast food.

I don't understand how people can decide to be vegetarian because _bacon_. Bacon is so freaking delicious, especially when it is cooked the right way. My goodness.

After munching away happily on my bagel and inhaling my latte, I took out a book from my bag. I felt that now was a good time to just get lost in a book before I start to feel nauseous and anxious. I really wish my qualms would just go away but I just can't get rid of them.

This will be the first time that I am flying first class. I saved up enough money and sky miles to acquire a first class ticket. I am so proud of myself. No toddlers kicking the back of my seat or weird men drooling on my shoulder. It will be spacious and comfortable; at least I hope it will be. Maybe a nice, handsome businessman will sit next to me. Yes, that would be _lovely_.

Before I knew it, first class passengers were called to board the plane. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I can do this. It will be fine, Gabriella. You will land safely in ABQ and mom will be there, waiting to pick you up. I will be all right. I muster of all my courage and march over with my leather backpack on my back, the strap of my bag on my right shoulder, my paperback in my left hand, and my ticket and passport in my right. I _can_ _do_ this.

I gave the man my ticket. He looked it over and ripped the shorter stub, returning it to me. He gave me a warm smile and lifted his chin to say, "Enjoy your flight, Miss Montez."

"Thank you," I said graciously. His eyes reminded me of Troy's, except for the fact that Troy's eyes were somewhat different—they were brighter. Troy's eyes were a light baby blue under normal light. But they would change. Sometimes, they were gray. They could almost become a glassy navy. Other times, they could transition into the most beautiful bluish, sea green color.

As cliché as it sounds, I got lost in those baby blues countless times. He would be talking to me about things that he would never tell any other person, and I would be getting lost in pools of light gray-blue.

"_Ella, are you even listening to me?" he would whisper._

"_What?" I would ask, dumbfounded and abruptly heaved out of my reverie._

"_Never mind," he would chuckle and kiss me right then and there._

I smiled to myself as I walked through the corridor leading up to the airplane door. A female flight attendant checked my ticket and led me to my seat. I was listed for a window seat, the window on my right. I had my own personal television, a footrest, side table, and a comfy-looking leather chair.

I thanked the flight attendant and carefully placed my backpack and bag in a compartment near my seat. My chair was still connected to another chair but there were two respective armrests between them.

A male flight attendant approached me and politely asked, "Would you like some refreshments before we take off, miss?"

I clasped my hands together, "May I have a glass of chardonnay?" A little wine would be extremely helpful to soothe my nerves before I go into full-blown pteromerhanophobia.

"Certainly," he agreed and left to retrieve my beverage.

I closed my eyes after leaning back in my seat and letting out another deflating sigh. I just want the next five hours and three minutes to be quick and painless, with the least amount of turbulence possible. I heard someone shuffle near the seat next to me—probably my flight mate who will be sitting next to me. I did not open my eyes. I was concentrating on staying calm.

I could hear he or she loading his or her carry on bags into the compartments and finally sitting down next to me.

I continued to concentrate on praying, my hands folded together tightly in my lap. The pilot soon came on the PA system, announcing that we were to buckle our seat belts and that our aircraft would be soon taking off.

My fear resurfaced. My eyes opened wide. My hands gripped the armrests. But once again, my left hand gripped the hand of the person sitting next to me.

"You haven't changed a bit haven't you, _Ella?_" My once-beloved nickname rolled right off his tongue just like I remembered. Only this time, his voice was deeper and clearer and more confident.

My brown eyes turned to my left only to be captured in light baby blue. But this time, they were brighter. Definitely brighter.

* * *

_Someday, W__hen my life has passed me by_  
_I'll lay around and wonder why you were always there for me._  
_One way, __In the eyes of a passerby,_  
_I'll look around for another try_  
_And'll fade away._

**- Sugar Ray, "Someday"**


	2. Skinny Love

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed the first chapter. And sorry for the super-late update. I've been under a lot of pressure and stress lately with school. I know the first chapter was predictable but oh well. The first chapter was written in Gabriella's POV. This chapter is written in Troy's POV. The last chapter will be in third person.

The last chapter is probably going to be very long and should be up before Valentine's Day. *crosses fingers*

*updated: Fixed some typos. Let me know if I missed any.

Oh and since today is the 20th of January - **HAPPY 8th BIRTHDAY, HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL**! Back in 2006, HSM first premiered. It was a bittersweet day, I remember. Because I found a love for HSM but it was also the day that my beloved aunt lost her battle with cancer. Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to her. I know somewhere up above, I have an angel watching over me.

* * *

**Skinny Love  
**/ˈskinē/ /ləv/

When two people love each other but are too shy  
to admit it but they still show it.

* * *

**A Fortunate Stroke of Serendipity**

Chapter 2: Skinny Love

I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw her at the window seat on the plane. Her eyes were closed tightly, showing tiny wrinkles on her eyelids. I blinked twice to make sure I was awake. There was no doubt in my mind. That was Gabriella.

I looked back at the ticket in my hand. 14B.

I looked up at the seat marker underneath the overhead bin. 14 A B.

What are the odds? What are the odds that I get the seat next to my ex-girlfriend? I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and made my cheeks swell then deflate.

Are you serious? I look towards the ceiling and pass my left hand across the back of my neck. I close my eyes for a second and take another breath.

Here goes everything.

I stocked up the baggage compartment with my laptop case and small, wheeled luggage. She didn't make a move or a cue of acknowledgement. I tried not to think too much and sat down in my seat—next to _her_.

I looked to my right and her eyes were still closed. That is, until the pilot's announcement came on.

I heard her gasp and she grabbed my hand—aiming to grab the armrest, I presume. She was always an anxious flier.

I managed to gain my composure quickly and said in the smoothest voice I could manage, "You haven't changed a bit haven't you, Ella." Man, did I miss calling her that. I was the only one who called her 'Ella'.

I looked over at her. Her eyes were wide—her beautiful dark hazel eyes with golden rims. Then, they turned to me and connected with mine. And I swear, that my heart paused for a millisecond longer than it normally would.

Looking into those eyes for the first time—in what?—almost eight years, took me back to when life was simpler.

She was even more beautiful than the last time I saw her—if it was even possible. She was _absolutely_ stunning. She looked more mature, more confident, more poised, and womanlier. My heart felt as if it was pressed through my chest and into my back. And then a stupid thought ran into my mind—_she's probably taken already, by now. I mean look at her. _Her aura was so intense—more intense than the last time I saw her, when things between us ended.

Damn. She could still be the death of me.

I never thought Gabriella Montez would break up with me, back then. It was around the end of our freshman year at university. She was at Stanford. I was at Berkeley. I would visit her as much as I could—every day or weekend that I wasn't playing or practicing with the team. I dreamt of marrying her someday.

Then she hit me. Not literally, of course. The only times she would actually hit me was when I was offensively joking around, or poking fun at her, or when she caught me staring at her _amazing _ass. She would swat my shoulder or slap my chest. I loved getting her worked up. We complemented each other so well. Every sentence, every gesture was comfortable and effortless.

Just that second, when our eyes connected, she said in a breathy voice that was taken aback, "Troy?"

I genuinely smiled. I missed her saying my name.

"How've you been?" I asked, looking into her eyes, trying to find a speck of gladness to sync with the utter joy that was accumulating in my soul.

She slowly returned my smile. "I'm fine." _You have no idea, babe. _So_ fine. Okay…don't be an ass, Troy. It's a good thing that I didn't say that aloud._

A steward sauntered toward us with a circular, silver tray with a single glass of white wine. "Your chardonnay, miss?" gesturing to Ella.

I internally chuckled and focused my attention from the wine glass to her. "Are you sure you're fine?" I grinned.

She rolled her eyes. She really hasn't changed. "Thank you," she responded to the steward as he left, then faced me, "Yes. I just wanted to take advantage of the first class refreshments." She turned her eyes slightly towards the window.

"Oh, come on, El," I raised an eyebrow in obvious disbelief, "I know you. You still haven't gotten over your flight fear."

She smiled to herself and lowered her eyelashes as she took a cautious sip. She has me wrapped around her finger again and she doesn't even know it. I can't help it. I don't give a shit as to why we broke up. We're older now. I want to make a move but then again, I would be stepping out of line right now. She could have a longtime boyfriend by now—or _even worse_—a husband.

I really shouldn't think like that. I should want her to be happy—no matter the circumstances. Although if she's already married, I'm pretty much _toast_. I might already have lost my second chance with the girl of my dreams. I should have fought for her—I really should have…but I just went along with her wishes at the time because she really wanted it. And she was sobbing too, which had me confused when we had the discussion. And when she would cry, I would go completely weak—even if it was rarely that she would ever break down.

"Uh. I haven't seen you in like—what—eight years. What have you been up to?" I asked slowing down my speech at the last sentence, not wanting to sound too eager.

"I'm actually a dermatologist now. I work at a local hospital but I'm thinking of opening up my own private practice soon. How about you?" her eyes were shining. Maybe she was happy to see me. I hope so.

"I work for a hedge fund—for J.P. Morgan Chase. I work as an analyst," I replied. I didn't want to sound like a pretentious asshole.

She nearly choked on her wine. "Wow. Th-That's great," she said. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth was a little open in surprise.

* * *

We caught up during the entire duration of the flight. I learned that she continued after Stanford undergrad to Stanford Medical School. I was internally overflowing with happiness for her.

"I'm proud of you, Ella, seriously I mean it," I said letting out a short breath, "You accomplished your dream from start to finish."

"I guess so," she sighed. She looked as if she was beaming at me. I hope my mind isn't just playing cruel tricks on me. "—but wow, you work at a hedge fund. That's…_impressive_."

"I continued onto grad school after undergrad at Georgetown. I decided to do business at McDonough and finished by MBA there. I guess it all worked out in its own way," I exhaled.

"Well, I'm proud of you too," she said with assurance in her voice, "Who knew that the playmaker would play in the big leagues?—of business, that is…so you didn't end up getting drafted into the NBA?"

"No, it wasn't my thing. Dad would have been thrilled but we both know that I'm too short. The NBA wants guys that are at least 6'4"," I chuckled.

"But your game is top-notch," she nodded, "and you're fast and—"

"Nah. It's…whatever. I like where I ended up." There was a pleasant silence between us. Everything about her—her rhythm of talking, her smile, and her hand gestures—was the same.

I cleared my throat and dared to ask about _the_ touchy subject. I really want to know if I still had a chance. "So, um, are you spok—I mean—do you have someone waiting for you at home—wherever that is now?" I said with as little emotion as I could manage. I shifted my eyes left and right while I reached for the back of my neck with my right hand. _You almost asked 'Are you spoken for?' What is this, the 18__th__ century or something? Real smooth, Troy. Very smooth. You sound like a fucking desperate idiot. _

She laughed that familiar Gabriella laugh—one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard.

"No, Troy. I don't have a boyfriend or a husband…I'm single," she sneered playfully, "Why do you want to know?" she asked with a hint of smugness.

"I was just wondering. I'm single too…just so you know," I said, avoiding eye contact. I could tell she was amused without looking at her.

"So where do you live now?" she changed the subject.

"Oh, I live in Westchester," I replied, relieved of my embarrassment.

"Are you serious?" she said shaking her head, "Where?"

My mouth gaped open after we exchanged where our apartments were located. She lived about fifteen minutes away from me. What the fuck? I could have just looked her up in a phone book, called her, and driven over. Great minds think alike, I guess. Serendipity is strong today.

"That's a _huge_ coincidence," I stated plainly, almost at a loss for words.

"Yeah," she nodded, glancing at the window.

I guess God decided to play tricks on me that day—arranging my seat right next to the girl that changed my life around completely, back in high school.

* * *

When we landed in Albuquerque, I really didn't want her to go. Her presence brought back so many memories, which I wish I could relive. Gabriella and I picked our luggage from the carousel and stood near the doors, leading outside to the arriving flights' pickup area.

Ella took a look at her vibrating phone in her hand and sighed, "…I guess this is goodbye. Have a merry Christmas and say hi to your parents for me."

"Will do," I answered, "…and if…if you need me…or want to talk or something, don't hesitate. You know where I am."

She nodded. She almost turned away but I grabbed her hand. "I mean it," I confessed, giving her hand a light squeeze. She looked as if she was going to say or ask something but then closed her mouth and looked at her phone again. "My mom is waiting for me. I really should go."

"Okay. I understand. Wish her a merry Christmas for me, all right?" I wasn't sure if she wanted to see me again or not. Usually, I could read her easily. Now, she seemed hazy to me.

"I will," she smiled with her lips and waved bye to me.

I watched her walk away and get into a minivan that pulled over to the sidewalk.

* * *

"Oh my goodness! You're here!" my mother practically screamed as the taxi pulled into the driveway.

She ran to embrace me. I leaned down in anticipation of a large mama bear hug. "Aw, I've missed my son so so _so_ much," she put her hands on my cheeks.

"I've missed you too mom," showing a small smile.

"You must be starving. Come inside. I made your favorite," she hurried into the house, not bothering to wait for me to carry my luggage.

* * *

I decided to go for a run the next day. After seeing Gabriella again, my head started to swarm with thoughts and memories that haven't resurfaced in…well…a really long time. Gabriella broke down my walls in high school even when I repeatedly shut her down. My mom and dad went through separation and divorce during that time. I didn't tell anyone—until she came around. I knew I could trust her.

Even though some part of me wishes that my parents were still together, I think things worked out for the better. I've come to learn that I really am a mama's boy. My dad was—to put it short—being an asshole. And that's just my way of putting it as nicely as I can.

So I ran off all of my fears and anxieties. Grabbing my key and shifting it through the doorknob's hole, I pushed the door open only to find _her_ again.

"Oh, hi Troy! Gabriella is here. Did you know that she's a doctor now?" my mom waved me over towards her. _Yes, mom, I know. And I find it unbelievably hot that people call her Dr. Montez. _Mother was sitting opposite Gabriella who sat on the couch in the living room. _Oh God._

"Yes, I did know that, actually." I tried to stay calm. Gabriella softly smiled up at me with understanding eyes that could practically read my confusion and disgust at this situation.

"I'll get some tea and cookies, sweetheart," my mom interjected, looking like she sensed some telepathic communication between Gabriella and I. She cleared her throat and stared at me with goading expression before proceeding through the kitchen door.

"Hey," I simply shrugged. I really didn't think she would bother to stop by.

She stood up and walked a little closer to me.

"I was wondering—How do I put this?—if you could do me a favor," her eyes shifted around the room and averted to the rug we were standing on, "I know it's last minute…and I basically came here on an impulse. You can say no if you want to—but I mean—"

I chuckled at her mid-sentence. She always did ramble a lot. "You're rambling, Ella," I remarked, probably a little too endearingly than I hoped.

"Right," she pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and shook her head, "Sorry." Her hand touched her temple as she took a deep breath.

I leaned down a little, trying to connect our eyes until I had her full gaze. She was still the perfect height for me, in spite of the few inches I've gained since freshman year of college.

"I just…have this wedding to go to in two days…and my friend convinced me to check off having a plus one on the RSVP note," she paused, "I know we have history but things don't seem that awkward between us now. I mean, you were a big part of—"

Holy shit. Second chances are real. I interrupted her, "Sure. I'll be your date. It's no big deal," I cleared my throat, successfully hiding my overwhelming excitement.

A comfortable silence filled the room.

Her mouth formed a small 'o' as she looked up at me. She was so cute. I wanted to just grab her and lift her of the ground while spinning around in circles. But I had to restrain myself.

Her expression transitioned from surprise to genuine contentment. Her mouth formed a tight smile. She moved closer toward me and unexpectedly, took my hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Troy."

"It's no problem. Really," I replied as casually as I could. "So when do I get a tux?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "After I've had my tea and cookies."

* * *

Gabriella was right. We didn't feel awkward. At least, I didn't. That's for sure. After a snack, courtesy of mom, she dragged me to Men's Wearhouse to rent a tux for the wedding. I felt like I was back in high school, shopping for a tux to wear to prom. I just hoped that my time with her now would last for as long as possible.

She made me model for her all of the tuxedos that she to selected in a catalogue. All of the suits were black. I thought they all looked similar but Gabriella would scrutinize each one, giving me funny looks and scanning my body up and down. I think she was just giving more excuses to check me out.

"I think I like this one the best," she told the salesman. She smoothed down the suit across my shoulders while facing her body towards me. She was so close I could smell her perfume. She still smelled just the same—a vanilla aroma dashed with a fruity, floral flavor.

I smirked. "Are you sure you don't want me to try on twenty more that look exactly the same?" I said quirking an eyebrow. Her eyelashes lowered. She squinted at me and pointed a finger, touching the center of my chest.

"Don't get smart with me. You don't know how good you look right now…thanks to me of course," she put her hands on her hips. I saw her bite her bottom lip and scan me up and down again with her vibrant eyes.

I glanced to the side as I saw the salesman punch some buttons on a keyboard connected to a desktop computer. "Hmm…what color are you wearing to the wedding anyway?" I changed the subject as Ella examined the cuffs of my blazer.

"Elise picked out this darker baby blue. I think it's called dusk blue or something. She ordered my bridesmaid dress already. It's supposed to be full-length with a sweetheart neckline…" she pressed her index finger to her chin, "Why am I telling you this?"

I straightened my tie, looking at the mirror behind her, "I just want to picture what you'll look like," I paused, "…Um how are you going to introduce me to your friends?" I tried not to sound to awkward. Did they even know about me? About how we had a longtime relationship?

"I'll just say 'This is my good friend, Troy'. I don't see what the big deal is. They don't have to know about our messy history," she shrugged.

_Good friend? Good. Friend. _So that's what I am now. I sighed deeply. I looked at her but she didn't seem to detect my distress. And _our messy history_? I love our history. Even though it is messy. But I didn't think it was that messy.

Huh. I guess being a _good_ _friend_ of hers is better than being an adversary. I still don't want to get stuck in the friend zone. That's one of a guy's worst nightmares, especially if that girl is the one you're in love with.

Back up a second there.

_Love_.

I guess…I never stopped. _Loving_ her. I really should be mad at her now. What she did to me was…was one of the worst events of my life. I don't know if I'm exaggerating or not. Maybe love is the reason why I'm not mad at her. Why we seem to agree. Why everything seems so natural now in spite of what happened almost eight years ago in her college dorm. Why we're both single right now.

I don't know if I believe in fate…but I'm beginning to now.

* * *

Soon after, I stealthily slipped the salesman my red American Express for the tuxedo. Gabriella was busy looking at socks and dress shoes for me.

When she returned to the tuxedo section and saw the cashier returning my credit card to me, she gasped loudly causing the cashier to turn his head her way.

"I told you, I could cover it. It was no big deal," she narrowed her eyebrows at me. This reminds of those times we would fight over the restaurant bill at the local Albuquerque diner.

"Hey," I lifted my hands up in defense, "I'll let you buy me the socks and shoes but don't worry about the rest."

She gave me a light slap on my back. "You're still impossible, aren't you?"

I simply smiled crookedly at her and snaked an arm around her shoulders. "Always will be," I winked.

I thought I saw her blush before she looked away from my gaze.

* * *

The next couple of days before our road trip to Santa Fe were easy-going. Mom seemed happier to know that Ella and I were spending time together. She would push me out the know whenever I would say, "Can I have your car keys because Ella wants me to take her—" Before I could finish my sentence I would be at the top of the front steps with said car keys in hand.

Gabriella and I grew more and more comfortable with each other. I was undoubtedly enjoying every chance at being around her.

"So we need snacks for the trip. I need to make sure that Elise has my dress ready for me along with my shoes, bouquet, and your boutonnière," her eyes shifted from side to side as she wrote in her notebook.

We were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in a booth at IHOP for lunch. I was seated on her left.

"I can take care of snacks and call up the Four Seasons for the hotel reservation," I suggested, "I can also make a mean road-trip playlist." I nudged her arm.

She pressed her lips together, failing to hold back a smile. "I almost forgot about the hotel reservation. Thanks for reminding me. But yeah, thanks for helping out," she gave my knee a quick pat under the table.

"I'm just trying to ease some burdens off your shoulders. Everything should be fine," I reassured her, "Let me know if there's any other business to take care of."

She looked up from her notebook and into my eyes. I noticed her frown slightly as her eyes drifted to her lap.

"I know I'm completely ignoring the huge pink elephant in the room, Troy. I've been trying to avoid it—but I'm sorry, okay," her eyes met mine, "I was—_we_…were young and I was stupid and overthinking all the time..." She shook her head and ran a hand through her dark brown, almost black locks.

I rubbed her back lightly with my right hand.

"No, no. I don't blame you. We were young, and I think you made the right decision for us. Really," I whispered and sighed, "I don't have any animosity towards you, whatsoever. You don't have to worry…We don't have to talk about this now…"

"Still…" her voice shook, "I'm sorry, Troy. I'm honestly and truly _sorry_…I made us end abruptly. It was my fault," she leaned her head on my shoulder. "I just thought…" her words drifted up into the air surrounding us.

I couldn't help but turn my body toward her and capture her in my arms. I missed her warm embrace. I didn't realize how much I missed comforting her—hugging her. I could smell her strawberry shampoo as I placed a small kiss at the top of her head.

She raised her head from my collarbone unexpectedly and shuddered, looking into my eyes, searching for I don't know what. She adjusted her arms around my neck and carefully kissed me on the cheek.

It may have been a quick peck but my perception distorted the time and played it out in slow motion. I was going to plant a kiss on her lips right then and there but…I didn't want to scare her. I was afraid that she was just a mirage at that very second. I thought I would wake up from a dream. I wasn't sure if she was real. I was afraid that she would disappear or melt right through my arms.

After I blinked for about a hundred times, I knew she wouldn't leave me. She gave me a heartfelt smile before returning to her original position. I mentally cursed the waiter as he caught her attention. She turned her head and saw plates of steaming pancakes in his hands.

I wanted that moment—her in my arms and me in hers—to last until the end of time.

* * *

_So don't try to deny it pretty baby,_

_You've been down so long you can hardly see._

_When the engine's stalled and it won't stop raining_

_It's the right time to roll to me._

_Roll to me, Roll to me._

**-Del Amitri, "Roll to Me"**


End file.
